Orientation
by IsaKassees
Summary: Mr. Edward Cullen gives Ms. Alice Brandon her first-day orientation in The Office. Who's right across the hall from him and doesn't know he exists? How will Alice help poor oblivious Nerdward? E/B, AH-AU, OOC Lemons. Full of gigglesnorts. Now continued.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Even after all this time, SM still owns Twilight. Orientation belongs to Orozco, but this OOC Nerdward pining for Bella is mine. **

**A/N: Well….hello. Lol. So…I'm not dead? I truly am so sorry for being gone for so long. I will give one of my epic A/Ns at the bottom, but for now I will just introduce you to my latest craziness. It's weird, _almost_-parody(but not quite), (hopefully)humorous, and (of course) a lemon at the end to make up for all the time I've been away. I love and have missed you all. *mwah!***

**Betaed by the great and amazing aleighy (aleighy on Twitter)**

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><p><strong>EPOV<strong>

"Hello, Ms. Brandon. Welcome to our team here at _Volturi, Volturi, & Volturi_. I'm very glad to have you join us here today, and I'm also thankful you were able to look past the ridiculousness of our firm's name. The brothers all wanted equal billing, never minding the fact that even they don't know who is listed first in the business's name."

"Who is?"

"Who is what?"

"Who is listed first?"

"That is an excellent question, Ms. Brandon. I'm afraid I can't answer it, but always feel free to voice concerns or questions to your second nearest managerial supervisor. Not too many questions, though. Too many will make your supervisor believe you incompetent, and he will then most likely find a reason to let you go. Moving on…"

"Wait, why my _second_ nearest manageri-"

"All in good time, Ms. Brandon. Again, an excellent question. Now follow me, if you please."

This was going well so far. I'd given her two compliments and I hadn't gotten a panic attack yet. That Xanax had really done the trick, even if I was a little more talkative than usual. I led her down the hallway, continuing to point out a few rather insignificant cubicles, full of a few rather insignificant people. One of our CPA's, Jacob Black, who was always in a foul mood and also the hairiest person I had ever had the displeasure to encounter. How he landed himself a wife and mistress, I'd never know.

"Probably uses his secretary to keep them straight," she mumbled under her breath behind me.

"That is entirely possible, Ms. Brandon. Very astute observation. We have very good administrative assistants here, for the short amount of time they remain. They all come from the temp agency and the turnover rate is very high. In the last six months alone we already went through two Janes, a Lauren, a Victoria, and a Kate. I believe the new one's name is Tammy…no, Tara…no, Tanya! That's it, Tanya. Most leave due to sexual harassment, either as victims or instigators, sometimes a strange mix of both. The new one appears to be leaning towards the instigator sort, if you know what I mean. If you don't, I mean she tries to attract my attention to her breasts at every conceivable opportunity. As you are a woman, you are most likely safe from their advances, however they are known to be quite catty toward our female colleagues here. But, they will always do the work assigned to them, otherwise they would be let go. So feel free to ignore them otherwise or accidentally spill your coffee on them anytime to ensure cooperation. If you ever happen upon one of the temps attempting to harass a fellow male colleague, feel free to intervene, unless it is one of the Volturi brothers. They are usually the instigators in that scenario. Moving on…"

"Wait! Should I be worried here? You just said my bosses like to harass women," she exclaimed, stopping me with her hand on my arm.

"Oh no, no need to worry at all, Ms. Brandon. They like to harass the temps, and quite frankly, the temps like to be harassed. The brothers are also rarely seen outside of their offices, which are located in the basement. They are very strange. As for myself, I would never harass a woman, and neither would any of my fellow colleagues here. Except for James Hunter. And the janitorial staff. And the night guards."

She was beginning to look a bit pale, so I continued moving on so we could finish quickly and she would be able to take a short break before beginning the work day. She must have forgotten breakfast.

"Anyway, you won't need to worry about the janitorial staff or the night guards, unless you stay late in the office. We don't pay overtime, so you shouldn't stay late. Your work day is eight hours, but we only give each person about two hours worth of work to do a day. You should still stretch that work out over eight hours, though. We keep expectations low to avoid laziness, not promote it. If for some reason you are unable to do your two hours' worth of work in the eight hour allotted time period, feel free to file an extension with the Office Manager, Angela Weber. She is quiet as a mouse and a complete pushover. She gives extensions to anyone. Incidentally, she is in love with Ben Cheney, her assistant, but is too shy to let him know. However, he is aware, but equally shy. A most unfortunate impasse. Moving on…"

"Wait!" she stopped me again, seeming exasperated. Maybe we would need to take a break first, before I finished the tour. "What about this James Hunter?"

"Ah. I neglected to explain. My apologies, Ms. Brandon. You are a very astute individual. So full of questions, though. Anyway, James Hunter is your first managerial supervisor, hence why I told you to take all questions and concerns to your second managerial supervisor. If you don't look him in the eye, he won't believe he has a 'connection' with you, and will therefore treat you as though you don't exist. That's his office just over there. He is absolutely obsessed with hunting. His office is covered in pictures of his various hunting trophies and decorated with bullets. I have heard that he even has bullets for pens, but I can't really be sure. I don't look him in the eye, either.

"Your assignments are sent via our office's email system and you will deliver them the same way. You need never actually speak to another human being while at the office, but we actively encourage polite and civil office friendships and relationships, during appropriate break and lunch times."

"Relationships?"

"Yes, Ms. Brandon. Marcus Volturi, one of the brothers listed in our firm's ridiculous name, believes strongly in the importance of relationships in a healthy individual's life. Because the majority of our waking hours are spent in this office, he encourages the firm's employees to pursue relationships within the workplace, so as not to be distracted by the freedoms the outside world offers. That is another reason why each employee is only given two hours worth of work for an eight hour day. For example, our other CPA, Mike Newton, is currently in a relationship with our Human Resources manager, Jessica Stanley. She is cheating on him with Tyler Crowley, our Office Supplies Manager. For more information on these and other relationships, you can sit in the office lounge during your breaks and listen to the temps gossip by the coffee machine. Even at the alarming rate in which they turn over, they always know who is sleeping with whom."

"I see."

"Excellent. Incidentally, here we are at your second managerial supervisor's office. Knock, knock, Mr. Whitlock."

"Edward, I've told you, you can call me Jasper," he replied, without looking away from his computer.

"Mr. Cullen!" I heard a hiss come from behind me. I turned around to find Ms. Brandon hiding behind me. Amused, I cocked my head down at her. She was an extremely short woman.

"Yes?"

"Please tell me he's not a pervert, or in a relationship and cheating on anybody, or in a relationship at all!" she whispered frantically. "Or gay!"

I frowned. "Ms. Brandon, here at _Volturi, Volturi, & Volturi_, we take great pride in our non-discrimination policy. Heterosexual, homosexual, and even transgender employees are all on equal standing in our office. Gianna, down in Public Relations, used to be a Gene, and she/he is one of our best employees."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "I'm not asking because I have a problem with gay people, Mr. Cullen. I'm asking from a…potential inner-office relationship perspective."

Huh?

Oh.

I smiled, letting a little of my strict professionalism melt away. "To the best of my knowledge, the answer to all of your questions is no. He and I rescue each other from the temps' advances often, his last _monogamous_ relationship with _Maria_, who incidentally has always been a Maria, ended for reasons I am personally unaware of. But the temp probably would. Could I introduce you now?"

Her eyes darted nervously behind me, where Jasper was still focused on his work. "Um…he looks a little busy right now. Could we finish the orientation and then I'll…_get acquainted_ with him later?"

I nodded, leading her by the elbow further down the hallway. "Acceptable, Ms. Brandon. I should make you aware of the fact that the copier room and the supply closet do not have a lock, but all offices do. However, the offices are not soundproof, but the stairwells are, from what I've been told. Unfortunately, due to fire code, the doors to the stairwells must remain unlocked at all times. Breaks are thirty minutes in the morning and thirty minutes in the afternoon. One hour for lunch. Moving on…"

"Wait," she stopped me, _again_. I faced her to find her jaw slightly agape. "Did you just basically give me a rundown on how to _get down_ during the work day?"

"An interesting way to put it, but all part of the orientation, Ms. Brandon. Normally, I would have allowed you the luxury of reading through the employee's handbook at your own discretion, but given your interest in Mr. Whitlock, I felt it prudent to make mention of such things prior to your plans of _getting acquainted_. Moving o-"

"Mr. Cullen, can I ask what your position is here?"

"Of course, Ms. Brandon. An excellent question. It might surprise you to know that I am not normally the person who performs first-day orientations. Normally, our Human Resources Manager would be giving you your tour, but she is out sick today. Incidentally, so is Tyler Crowley. I volunteered to guide you in order to escape the unwanted sexual advances of the new temp, Tanya, as I previously referenced, and to prevent James Hunter an opportunity to harass you. I am actually the manager of our IT department. If you ever have any issues with your computer, give me a call. My extension is number four on your office phone, already labeled."

"IT," she mumbled, nodding her head. "That explains a lot."

I frowned, suddenly unsure of myself. Jasper had warned me to be more personable than I was used to. But I recounted at least three smiles I had given her. I had complimented her skills of inquiry. And I thought I had been very thorough thus far.

"Have I done a poor job orientating you today, Ms. Brandon?"

"Oh, no!" she gasped, patting my arm. "You've done a great job, Mr. Cullen. Really."

Slightly deflated, I remained unconvinced. Just as well, I supposed, because we were at the final two offices on our floor. Mine and…_hers_.

"Mr. Cullen, please. You really have done wonderfully today. I already feel like part of the crew and I haven't even seen my desk yet."

Swallowing, I gestured to the left.

"This is my office. We have techs working on another level in the building, but I am the first go-to if you're having troubles. And directly across the hall from me is our advertising office. I'll, um…I'll let you introduce yourself to Ms. Swan. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Brandon. Mr. Whitlock will be more than happy to show you to your cubicle once you're ready."

"Wait!"

_Good god_, that must be this woman's favorite word. She was blocking the door to my office, forcing me to remain in the hallway.

"Why won't you introduce me to Ms. Swan? You introduced me to everyone else."

I frowned, feeling my heart rattle in my chest as my breaths grew shallower.

"That is probably not a good idea, Ms. Brandon."

She arched a tiny, thin eyebrow at me as a smirk grew on her lips. "And why is that, Mr. Cullen? You've made mention of pretty much everyone's love life in this office except for your own. Is there something going on between you and Ms. Swan?"

"I wish," I mumbled, but she heard me. Her smirk grew into a Cheshire cat's grin.

"So is this like that Ms. Weber and Mr. Cheney are too shy to say anything-thing? An impasse?"

"No, this is like a Ms. Swan doesn't know that Mr. Cullen exists-thing," I replied back honestly, feeling my ears burn a hot and embarrassed red. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? Orientation: over. Mortification: complete.

"Mr. Cull-"

"Oh, for God's sake, call me Edward. If you're going to start digging around in my nonexistent love life, you might as well."

"And I'm Alice. Now, Edward, this office isn't that big. You're literally right across the hall from her. Don't you see her during breaks? Lunch?"

I shook my head, still disbelieving I was having the conversation Jasper had been trying to pull out of me during months of countless Happy Hours. Maybe I should have only taken a half a Xanax.

"She comes in half an hour late and leaves half an hour early every day, so she skips her breaks. I don't know why. The temps probably do, but I don't want to listen to them talk about her life. It's not my business. She's perfectly polite to every single person here, even Gianna who used to be a Gene. She tells everyone to call her Bella, except for me, because as previously mentioned, she doesn't know I exist. She's never dated anyone in the office, and they've all tried. Several times. She's probably married. Her husband probably has great social skills. And manageable hair. I hate him. He doesn't deserve her. He probably can't even turn a computer on. He's an imbecile.

"I watch her eat lunch every day. She's allergic to peanuts, but loves the smell of peanut butter candles, and I think that that is adorable for reasons even I cannot understand. She calls her mother on Mondays and Thursdays. She calls her father on Tuesdays and Fridays. Wednesdays, she likes to read. She enjoys all the classics, but she hides cheap romance novels inside of them sometimes, usually around the holidays. Her favorite color is blue, and she looks beautiful in every shade of it.

"And her uncooperative computer is the best-running piece of machinery in this place, because it has only glitched once, and _of course_ I was out of the office that day, because I'm pretty sure God hates me. Every day when I get here before she does, I have to fight the temptation to break into her office and give her computer a virus just so I will have a legitimate reason to speak her name and hear her voice directed toward me. But then I remember that I am a horrible liar and will most likely blurt out that I broke her computer intentionally, at which point she would, _and rightfully so_, become very upset with me. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I would rather die than upset her. Incidentally, at this point I would really appreciate it if you would shut me up so that we might move on. Anytime. Please. Serious-"

"Okay, okay!" she laughed, shaking her head at me. Probably in pity. "Oh, Edward."

Well. Her tone rang of pity, but the glint in her eye was strange and didn't look like it bode well for me.

"So I'm assuming you've never tried to talk to her. First step is doing that. Pretend I'm her, and introduce yourself."

I groaned. I should have called in sick today. But, of course, then Bella's computer would have broken down, and I wouldn't be here to fix it. Paradoxically, it was never going to break down as long as I was working here. Perhaps a game of chicken with fate? Call in sick to work, but then show up anyway?

Ms. Brandon, I mean, _Alice_ cleared her throat to regain my attention. I groaned again.

"What can I possibly say? 'Hello, my name is Edward Cullen. I watch and think and fantasize about you more than is probably psychologically healthy and am pretty sure I'm in love with you, even though you didn't know I existed until approximately fifteen seconds ago, and yes, I am aware we've never actually spoken. I would greatly appreciate you letting me take you out on a date so you can come home with me and never leave. Please don't be alarmed by the fact I have an entire room in my apartment full of Star Wars collectible action figures. They're for my nephew, mostly. By the way, in case you are wondering, no, I've never had a restraining order against me. I would really not like to start now. Also, in case I wasn't completely clear before, I think you are beautiful and want to have about a million little Bella-babies with you."

Huffing, I glared down at Alice as though she were the sole annoyance of my life. Right now, she was. She was unaffected by my wrath though, her shoulders shaking in laughter as she sucked her lips into her mouth. And then I heard a woman's voice ring out from behind me.

"Well, that's quite a start. I'm not sure about a million though."

"Oh, no," I whimpered. Yes, whimpered. Not even a manly sort of whimper, if there is such a thing. I started calculating the amount of money in my savings account and the costs of moving to, say, _Antarctica_, mentally already packing and donating various items throughout my apartment.

"Oh, yes," the she-devil in front of me cackled. Now, I was also adding torture, murder and subsequent shallow-grave burial with a lye topping to my to-do list before running away to the bottom of the earth.

"How long has she been there?" I gritted out between clenched teeth, as though by continuing to not acknowledge the angel behind me she would somehow disappear so I could kill the little demon in front of me.

"Oh, not long," Alice smiled. "Just since around when you said you'd rather die than upset her."

"But in the interest of full-disclosure, I was listening through my office door since around 'she comes in half an hour late…"

God, that voice was like chocolate. If it wasn't currently referencing my diarrhea of the mouth to an almost-complete stranger about my unrequited love for the owner of that voice, I'd probably drop to my knees in worship. Be more personable, my ass. I was going to add Jasper to my kill list, too.

"Ms. Swan, I'm Alice Brandon. Mr. Cullen just gave me my orientation. This office may very well be the strangest place I will ever work, and that's saying something. I used to run the books for a mental hospital. Woman to woman, is Jasper Whitlock on the level?"

"On the level and _very_ available. Call me Bella, Ms. Brandon."

"Only if you call me Alice," she winked, which was ridiculous, because her view of Bella was blocked by my unmoving, frozen form.

That's right, I still hadn't turned around.

"Bella, I think we may have broken the Edward."

I think I whimpered again.

"I'll be fixing that momentarily. If you don't mind, on your way to…_introduce_ yourself to Jasper, will you tell Tanya to cancel my eleven o'clock? And incidentally, have her check Edward's appointments as well. If he has any, tell her to cancel them. Did Edward explain to you the effectiveness of spilling coffee on the temps to make them behave?"

They were talking to each other through me as if I weren't even there.

"Oh, yes. Like I said, mental hospital. Trashy temps don't scare me."

"Great. We'll have to get together for a Happy Hour soon, Alice."

"Oh, I think we're going to be great friends," Alice winked again, which was still ridiculous, and then bounced away to the temp's desk.

Which meant I was now alone with Bella.

Option one: jump into office and lock door. Wait her out. Go home and never return.

Option two: make a run for stairs. Drive car straight to airport. Buy one-way ticket to the ends of the earth. Have movers ship everything. A lot can be done over the phone nowadays.

"Edward, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Silly Bella. Turning around to acknowledge your presence so that you can then reject me in the kindest yet firmest way possible was not one of the options given.

A heavy sigh behind me.

Heels clicking on the hardwood as she walked away from me.

A crash.

Whipping around, I looked around for the source of the noise, and found it in the now shattered monitor on the floor of her office. My eyes met hers, and she stared back at me calmly. Sitting primly on the edge of her desk, she beckoned me inside with a crook of her finger. Picking my jaw up off the ground, I walked into her office slowly, breathing in the scent of peanut butter candles deeply.

"Would you please close the door, Mr. Cullen?"

Without thought, my hand obeyed her, my eyes never moving from hers. Any second now, my alarm was going to go off, and I was going to shoot up in my empty bed at home, sweating and hard and alone.

"Mr. Cullen, I seem to be having a slight problem with my computer."

Swallowing hard, my eyes glanced down to the floor and then bounced straight back to hers. They were the darkest brown I had ever seen. I'd had no idea…

"Yes, I can see that. Unfortunately, I don't think it's fixable. It's going to have to be replaced, Ms. Swan."

"Please," she said softly, all traces of coyness and beguile gone. "Call me Bella."

I exhaled loudly, finally hearing those three words I had been waiting to hear for months. _Call me Bella_. I sank back into the couch behind me without even knowing it was there.

"I'm Edward."

She smiled then, a soft smile that was understanding but not pitying.

"I know. You're the first and last person here everyday. You've only missed one day of work since I started here, and I was so worried about you the whole day that I accidentally opened a virus, which incidentally was actually labeled 'Virus'. During your break in the morning, you get coffee from upstairs in the tech department to avoid the temps, and in the afternoon, you stop by the mailroom downstairs to say hello to Mrs. Cope, ask her how her husband is doing and on Fridays you offer to come mow her grass until he's recovered from his heart surgery. She always tells you no, but every Monday she brings you muffins for breakfast because you showed up and did it anyway. Everyday at lunch, I hope that today is going to be the day that you'll talk to me, or wave at me, or even just look me in the eye, so I can have even the tiniest hint of a sign that you might think about me half as much as I think about you.

"I've been after Jasper for ages to try and find out if you liked me, or might be interested, or if you even knew I was less than ten steps away from you for the last seven months. And so that we're clear, I _don't_ have an imbecile husband, or a fiancé, or a boyfriend, but I'm hoping that's changed by the end of this conversation, at least the boyfriend part, if you know what I mean. If you don't, I mean you. But first I want to know, and I don't mean this as an accusation, but why were you able to tell all of this to a new-hire and not me?"

"I…Xanax…should've taken half…" I trailed off, at a loss. It boiled down to being terrified of rejection, the fact that I had terrible social skills and knew it, and that she was just too…so… "Because, Bella. You're perfect, and I'm just the computer guy. I learned a long time ago, the guys with severe social anxiety and obsessions with sci-fi don't get the girl."

"Edward," she sighed. Pushing off her desk, she came to stand in front of me and knocked my feet with the toe of her shoe to make me spread my legs so she could stand between. "That's just…Look. I'm not perfect. I grind my teeth in my sleep. I never shave on the weekends. I forget birthdays worse than an amnesiac. And I could go on and on. But I'm not so naïve that I expect for you to be perfect either. I don't want perfect, I want you ."

"But…if…why didn't you try to talk to me then?" I asked quietly, looking up at her as she cupped my face in her hands. They were so soft. Smelled like soap. My hands were in tense fists on my knees. They were rough. Smelled like wires and ink.

"Because I was stupid and didn't take Jasper seriously enough when he warned me about your shyness. Because I was vain and thought if you were interested in me you'd make yourself known. Because I was afraid that if I talked to you first and you rejected me, I might not be able to get over it, but if I just kept pretending that you didn't know I was right here this whole time, I wouldn't have to risk my heart."

"So what happens now?" I asked, my mouth going dry as I saw her eyes focus on my lips.

"Now we know. I want you. You want me. And no more talking," she whispered, reaching behind me until I heard a click. She'd just closed the blinds. Slowly, she leaned down and my fists uncurled and found their new favorite place at her waist, holding her steady as her lips met mine for the first time. She deepened the kiss almost immediately, and my fickle hands forgot their favorite place around her waist and slid up her back, curling around her shoulders to bring her closer.

Good God, my angel could kiss like the devil. She surprised me by jerking her pencil skirt up to straddle me, pushing me back against the leather cushions of her couch. If she didn't stop soon, I was taking her on this couch, in her office, right in the middle of the day.

I broke away, gasping. "Bella…we should sto-"

"Edward," she cut me off, a fierce look in her eye. Something told me I would be losing a lot of arguments in the foreseeable future. "I get that you're a gentleman. You want to take me on dates, and romance me, and make love to me, and a lot of other beautiful, wonderful things that I will be so lucky to get. I'm on the shot, so we'll have to wait a while on the babies, and I'm still not sold on a million of them, but I want all of it. With you. But right now?"

She snaked her hand down between us, coming to rest on my very obvious tent. She groped me firmly, but not painfully, beginning to stroke me through the thin material of my dress pants. I groaned from deep in my chest, my eyes struggling to stay open as my breath picked up into shallow pants of pleasure. Leaning into my neck, she nuzzled me, dropping small kisses on my Adam's apple as it bobbed.

"Seven months, Edward. I've been wondering and hoping and wanting for seven months. Please."

_Please_.

Woman of my dreams, on top of me, fondling me, begging me to love her.

There are no options to consider here.

I grasped her face in my hands, kissing her hard. She moaned into my mouth, setting off a spark inside of me that just exploded. Grinding on top of me, she ripped off my sport jacket with the elbow patches. I yanked her silk blouse out of her skirt and over her head, a couple of buttons popping off and bouncing noisily on the floor. My checkered tie was pulled over my head and landed on the doorknob. My dress shirt followed and landed behind her desk, possibly in the trashcan. She stood suddenly, reaching underneath her skirt to make a delicate pair of lace panties appear. Before she could let them drop on the floor among the ever-growing pile of clothes around us, I snatched them away and tucked them into my pants pocket.

"Mine," I said firmly, meaning it in more ways than one.

She nodded slowly, her eyes blinking at me in shock, I think. I was a little shocked myself. Reaching down, she undid my belt buckle and the fly of my slacks. I pulled her back down to me, kissing her as she straddled me again, her skirt hiked up high on her hips. This time there was only my boxers between us, for a second, at least. She almost immediately took me out and began stroking me, slowly lowering herself ever closer. With my hands wrapped tightly around her waist, I stopped her one last time. Last chance, angel.

"You're sure?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"It's just the beginning for us, Edward."

And then she was sinking, sinking, all the way down until I thought I couldn't get any deeper inside her. I loosened my hold on her waist so she could rock at her own pace, slowly adjusting to the feeling. My lips were attached to every part of her I could find; her beautiful breasts, trapped in delicate lace that matched the panties in my pocket. Her clavicle, the hollow of her throat, her long, pale neck, her swollen lips; I couldn't get enough. She egged me on as her rocking became faster, her soft hands tangled in my unmanageable hair, simultaneously tugging at the strands as she pushed me further into her.

I mumbled words even I didn't understand against her skin, mixed with grunts and pants as I began to match her movements with shallow thrusts. Her chocolate voice came out in choked gasps, _more, more, more_, echoing all around the walls of her office. The thrusts became deeper, and she matched me, move for move. The fire in my gut grew hotter and hotter, and I reached between us to coax her to join me. Her gasps came faster and faster, until I felt her freeze above me and bury her face in my neck, biting the skin there to muffle a high-pitched moan. The double sensation of pain in my neck and pleasure from the tight heat down below finished me, my own groan buried in her chest.

As I came down from my high, what we'd just done came crashing down on me. As thoughts started racing through my mind faster than I could process, I felt my body tense as I prepared to face Bella and the unknown of what came next. But before I could work myself into a complete panic, I felt soft hands rubbing my back and an ever softer whisper of my name against my ear.

"Edward. Look at me."

Reluctantly, I did, and I was met with relaxed eyes and a bright smile.

"Do you have any vacation time saved up?"

Confused, I nodded.

"Good. We're taking the rest of the week off. We're going to find the nearest hotel and spend the rest of the day in bed. Tomorrow, we'll go on our first date, and then we'll go to your house and spend the rest of the night there. The day after that, we're going on our second date, and then you're coming to my house to spend the rest of the night there. After that, we'll play it by ear. Together. What do you think?"

My confusion quickly gave way to complete giddiness.

"Really?"

Her smile was all the answer I needed.

Just the beginning, indeed.

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><p><strong>AN: So. Life has been a little crazy for me. I recently went through a divorce and have been taking care of my three chitlins on my own for the last six months. I'm finishing my bachelor's fulltime and it's been a little hectic. **

**I want to say a big thank-you to all those readers that have sent me PMs, saying hi, asking if I was okay, ordering me to write. :P I still read the reviews that continue to pour in from TINML, RM, and MM. I hope you guys like this one, it's for you.**

**It's also a little self-pimpage for the Fandom for Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I will be submitting a oneshot for this cause, and you can still donate. And it's not just me you'd be getting. It's a compilation, full of pieces by some of your favorite authors. For more information go to: **

**http:/fandom4lls(.)blogspot(.)com**

**I wanted to take a second to mention my beta aleighy's new mission, which is to get everybody in twific fandom together for a summit. I am planning to go, if finances allow. Here's her note to all of you:**

**Are you interested in meeting up with all of your Twific friends in person? Join us for the TWILIGHT FANFIC MEET-UP in LAS VEGAS, NV on JUNE 8-10, 2012. For more information check out TwificMeetUp on Twitter or take a peek at our blog (under construction)**** http:/****twificmeetup(.)blogspot(.)com. If you can't make it to Vegas there are a couple other meet-ups being planned: FanFicNYCMeetUp and TwificMeetupUK http:/twificmeetupuk(.)blogspot(.)com**


	2. Chapter 2Staycation

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight. **

**A/N: Well. That was supposed to just be a oneshot. But then I got another funny idea for poor Nerdward, and...here you go. Let me know if you think you'd be interested in reading any more adventures for these two. I'll save the rest for the end. I love A/Ns. I can never stop at just one. :)**

**Betaed by aleighy. **

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><p>While ripping off each other's clothes had sounded like an attractive idea at the time, the aftermath proved to be a little more complicated. According to the cheap romance novels Bella secretly read during lunch, which I may or may not have also read in an attempt to get to know her better, the characters always attacked each other with wanton abandon before 'basking in the afterglow' and then fading to black. The books neglected to mention that tossing a shirt across the room might end it up in a trash can on top of a broken pen. My shirt was now a Rorshach card. Also, the books never discussed the consequences of popping buttons. Unless there is an emergency sewing kit on hand, a stapler is the best to be had.<p>

Altogether, we looked a "hot mess," as Bella put it.

Her lips were swollen and her hair was tousled, worse than mine, or what mine looked like normally before Bella's fingers got a hold of it. Our clothes were haphazardly put back together, my slacks wrinkled and Bella's skirt not much better. She was also blushing a deep pink on account of her current panty-less status. The part where the man gets to keep his lover's panties _was_ in the books. Mine. The Fabios were never mentioned blushing brighter than the women, but I was still new to this.

Opening her office door quietly, Bella poked her head out quickly before retreating and shutting the door again.

"Okay. For some reason, Tanya is glaring at Jasper's door like it gave her herpes. But she's completely focused on it, which means we should be able to make our escape undetected. So here's what we're going to do. I'll open my door so you can slip inside your office. Wait fifteen minutes and then meet me outside the parking garage elevator. We'll figure out whose car to take from there."

I nodded quickly, synchronizing my watch with the clock on Bella's desk.

"Only, um, I don't have a car. I ride my bike to work."

"You drive a motorcycle?" she asked incredulously, her eyes wide.

I swallowed, looking down at the ground.

"Um, no. It's just a bicycle. I only live a few miles away and my family all live in the city, so it's the most environmentally sound and efficient means of transportation. It's also my favorite, and only, means of exercise, due to the fact I also have a slightly severe aversion to public gyms, on account of the sweat, germs and general uncleanliness of the mass population. Take people's hand-washing habits, for example. The spread of fec-"

"I get it! I get it!" she shuddered, halting me with her hands. I shook my head at myself, cursing under my breath for letting my mouth run off. Again.

"Hey," she said softly, tugging gently at my shirt until I looked up. "I'm glad it's not a motorcycle. They scare the shit out of me. Cycling's great. I did it in college. Maybe we'll get my old Huffy out of storage and go on a bike ride together sometime soon, ok?"

I nodded, trying to tamp down the feelings of anxiety and inadequacy bubbling up inside. My rants didn't even seem to faze her, and I wondered how long that would last. Neuroses had a tendency of losing its novelty fairly quickly. But she hadn't run away yet, so I had to focus on that and enjoy it while it lasted. I also needed to stop thinking about public bathrooms, because they were seriously a distressing thought to me. Swarming with staphylococc-

"Edward."

"Right. Okay. Meet you in fifteen minutes."

She smiled at me then, and I couldn't resist stealing a kiss before I stole out of her office and into mine, where I proceeded to sit down at my desk and stare at my watch to count down the seconds.

. . . . .

I slid into the passenger's side of her Prius, cursing under my breath as my knees banged against the dashboard.

"Sorry," Bella giggled, which was a new sound I'd never had the privilege to hear before, and it almost made the soon-to-be-bruise worth it. Almost. I might have chipped my knee cap. "I should have warned you. The last person in my car was my mom, and she's even shorter than I am. Are you okay?"

I nodded, rubbing my knees as I pushed the seat back. The nerves started to come back, but I rubbed my palms against my slacks and focused on my breathing.

"So, whe-EH-re to?" Of course my voice cracked. Because I'm not really twenty-nine, but thirteen, apparently. And because she's a saint, she didn't even blink.

"I think there's a nice place just down the street. I overheard Jessica Stanley talking about it with one of the temps awhile back."

I wondered briefly whether Ms. Stanley frequented it with Michael Newton or Tyler Crowley. Dear God, what if she went there with both of them? I was fairly certain from what I had overheard by the Mr. Coffee that Newton was unaware of Crowley, but that didn't seem destined to last for long. At some point, Ms. Stanley was bound to confuse her days and lovers. She was exceptionally stupid. And the temps didn't hold back from their gossip, regardless of who was in the lounge. Then again, even if he overheard, he might not understand it. Michael Newton was rather exceptionally stupid as well.

And then I wondered if Ms. Stanley had some sort of frequent patron card for the hotel. Did they make such a thing for afternoon romps? What they must think of her, checking in for a couple of hours every day with alternating men. Dear God, what were they going to think of us? Of Bella? We were pulling into a hotel, and it wasn't even lunch time yet. They would know we were renting a room for sexual purposes!

As she parked, I placed my hand over hers on the gear shift.

"Bella, what if this isn't such a good idea. I've just realized that the hotel staff will likely be able to ascertain our reasons for checking-in in the middle of the day and-"

"And what are those reasons?" she smirked.

I gaped. Turned red. Pulled at the collar of my Rorshach shirt.

"Um, well…I mean, I thought…well, I guess…it seemed you were alluding to further fornic-"

"Edward, can I ask what you think of me? After what happened in my office?"

"I don't understand your question. I made what I think of you quite clear when I had a breakdown in the hallway."

She smiled. "I mean, do you think less of me because of what happened _after_ your confession? I don't think it counts as a breakdown if you don't go on a killing spree."

"You're confusing me with James Hunter. Just because I didn't pick people off with a deer rifle from atop a water tower doesn't mean it wasn't a breakdown. But of course I don't think any less of you! Why…how could you ask me…that's just…ridiculous!"

She nodded, turning the ignition off. "And yours is the only opinion that matters to me. But if you really want to know what I think the hotel people will think, I think they will see two people checking into a room. For all they know we're celebrating our tenth anniversary, but even if they're as catty as the temps and think we're having some sort of clandestine rendezvous, it's really not their business. We're grownups. If we want to have middle-of-the-day crazy hotel sex, then we can."

"I won't ever be winning any arguments against you, will I?"

"Not if I have any say in it, which I always do. Let's go!" she grinned, opening her door as I did the same.

We walked together through the entrance of the hotel, hand-in-hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the concierge greet us with a non-judgmental, welcoming smile, although the décor struck me as slightly odd. The only two colors were red and pink, and hearts of all sizes were everywhere.

"Welcome to the Hotel d'Amor. How can I help you today?"

"A suite if you have it, please?" Bella answered sweetly.

"We do. All of our suites are non-smoking…" the concierge continued to describe the hotel and accommodations available, and I tuned him out as I retrieved my wallet to pull out my credit card. Bella wasn't really listening to him either, because she was too focused on my attempts to hand the man my card. For some strange reason, she was trying to argue something about splitting the cost, but I pretended to go temporarily deaf as I handed the smiling man my card. I might not be able to win an argument of words, but I did have one advantage. I'm a solid foot taller than she is, and she can't pay if I'm holding her purse over my head.

"How happy the two of you are. You know what? Let me see something here, just one moment…Yes, it is available. Upgraded to our deluxe suite, compliments of the Hotel d'Amor. Only the best for young love," the concierge chuckled as he handed me back my card and the hotel key which, of course, had a large red heart printed on the front. I lowered Bella's purse and she snatched it away, trying to glare at me but failing as she heard the man's comment.

"Thank you," she smiled reluctantly. We walked together to the elevator just as the light stopped at one. The light was a pink heart. The doors opened, and out stumbled a disheveled-looking pair of familiar faces. Bella grabbed me suddenly so my back was to them, pulling me down for a deep kiss. Ms. Stanley and today's partner, Tyler Crowley, wandered obliviously past us, giggling and pawing at each other.

"Coast is clear," Bella laughed breathlessly, pushing me backwards into the elevator before the doors could close. "That was close."

"We will be a secret?" I asked curiously, because I was slightly confused. Perhaps she was embarrassed. Or maybe this wasn't as serious as I thought. I shouldn't have said anything about Bella-babies. Mentioning procreation before introducing yourself to a person isn't appropriate.

"Edward."

I shook myself out of my growing panic to focus on her again, and she was gazing back at me looking very serious.

"Whatever you're thinking, you're completely wrong. We're not going to be a secret, but I don't want to give the office an entire week to gossip about us if we're not even going to be there. But I'm damn sure proud you're finally mine, and I plan on showing you off and declaring you off Tanya's menu first thing Monday morning."

I smiled then. Proud. She was proud to have me. This might mean she was slightly imbalanced with such a skewed perception, but it tipped in my favor. I would take it.

"Quit thinking I'm crazy just because I want you," she demanded, dragging me out of the elevator as the doors opened onto the top floor.

Dear god, could she read my mind?

"I can tell by the look on your face. Now open up this door and show me how proud you are that I'm yours."

I would definitely never be winning an argument if she was some sort of telepath/empath. No matter. She wanted me to show her how proud I was for her to be mine? That, I needed no Xanax for.

. . . . .

"Oh…my…God," she panted, collapsing on top of me for the second time since we stormed into the room. Paying almost no mind to our surroundings, we started off against the wall by the door, finishing over a rather odd, red-velvet, S-shaped couch-thing. I bruised my chipped knee caps on the shower floor as I knelt before her, her returning the favor soon after as I held onto the bathroom counter for dear life, until we finally made our way to the bed, where she was currently riding me to exhaustion. Rolling us so I was on top, I began to thrust slowly as she shook her head back and forth. "I can't. Not again. It's too…_oh my god, don't stop_…too much…_wait, more, faster_."

I groaned, trying to give her what she wanted. Never was I more thankful for cycling than in that moment. Stamina has its uses. I pulled back slightly, angling my hips as I sped up and making her moans and words incoherent. As she came, she took me with her that time, and it took all my willpower to keep myself held up on shaking arms so I didn't crush her. Slowly, I pulled out and all but collapsed beside her, my arm wrapped around her. She curled into me with a little hum of satisfaction, still catching her breath.

Huh.

I didn't notice the mirror on the ceiling before. But the lighting was rather dim in here.

My heart was still pounding, and I was sweaty enough now to warrant another shower. Bella was as well, and it occurred to me that we might need to request a change of sheets if we were going to stay there the rest of the night. But then I realized we weren't currently on the sheets, but the dark red, velvet duvet and it also occurred to me that other people, namely Jessica Stanley and any number of other men, could also have been sweating on top of this very same duvet, as recently as just yesterday.

"Oh boy. What's wrong, Edward?"

"Wha-AH-t makes you think something's wrong?" I asked, my voice breaking _again_, and slightly high-pitched. Puberty chose an interesting time to make a reappearance.

She snorted, which was also a new sound that even she could make sound cute, and rested her chin on my chest.

"Because when you start getting worked up about something, your whole body tenses, your breathing becomes shallow, and your jaw makes this weird, clicking noise."

I sighed. "I was just thinking about the possibility of previous patrons' bodily fluids on the various surfaces inside our room."

She shook her head, giving me an indulgent smile. "Well then, it will please you to know that this hotel is known for its cleanliness rating. I heard the temp before Tanya raving about it."

"Really?" I asked, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

She nodded, laughing softly. "But what would you think about an extra bath, just in case?"

I smiled at her exaggerated eyebrow waggle, nodding in return. After I sat up and turned to help her off the bed, however, my eyes froze on the strangest thing I had ever seen in a hotel room, something I had definitely missed in our earlier sex haze.

"Bella?"

"Mmm?"

"Why is there a swing hanging from the ceiling?"

"Whaa?"

She sat up quickly and whirled around, and together we began to look at our suite for the first time.

Hanging from the ceiling and facing a mirrored wall was a large black swing with black loops dangling from the bottom. A few feet to the left of that was a raised platform with a shiny, silver pole running from floor to ceiling, a circular sofa set at the base of the platform. Along the wall across from our bed, there was the strange, S-shaped sofa we'd made use of earlier, which was in front of a media center, and just next to that was a mini-kitchenette. Kleenex boxes were stacked on the counter. As I completed the circle of our surroundings, I noticed for the first time the heart-shape of the Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, which we'd bypassed for our shower earlier, the one with the massaging showerhead.

Dear God, I was in a penthouse suite sex-dungeon.

"Jessica Stanley is a freak," she remarked blandly. I resisted the urge to run for the door.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?" She sounded somewhat dazed.

"About that bath?"

"Yeah," she nodded, rising from the bed and taking me by the hand to the bathroom. With relief, I saw that the Jacuzzi was empty, definitely smelling of bleach and whatever fragrance they'd added to attempt and cover the bleach smell. Fumbling with a few buttons, the heart-shaped tub quickly began to fill. I grabbed two plush robes off the hooks on the bathroom wall, wrapping one around her before doing the same for myself. They smelled strongly of detergent, and cleaning supplies were quickly becoming a new favorite scent of mine.

She smiled up at me in thanks, giving me a sweet kiss. "How do you feel about twenty questions?"

"Twenty questions about what?"

"Us, of course," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "We could use a break before the next round, and, frankly, I'm still in a little bit of shock about the swing and stripper pole. What do you say?"

I smiled back, helping her into the tub. "I say good."

Oh, I was so wrong.

It started off simple. Deceptively simple.

Easy:

Where did you grow up? (Alaska/Arizona)

How many siblings do you have? (One/None)

Moving into dangerous territory, but stupidly continuing unaware, as I am unpracticed in the art of womanly witchcraft:

How long ago was your last relationship/how long did it last? (Over two years-lasted until she met a stockbroker/A year and a half ago-lasted until he asked her to dye her hair blond and get breast implants[insanity!])

Are we exclusive? (Of course!/Yes)

The danger zone, where red lights should flash and sirens should begin to wail:

How old are you? (29-and here was where I don't think I was supposed to ask back)

How old do you think I am?

A smart man would have changed the subject, or guessed an obscenely low and unrealistically flattering number, just shy of illegal. 19. Given that she had a bachelor's degree, maybe 22, MAX. But what did I do? I assessed her dark brown hair for grays, examined her face for signs of laugh lines or crow's feet, obliviously missed her frown as I recollected the softness of her skin and the fullness and perkiness of her breasts (implants? The man must have been a Neanderthal), and guessed that she was my age. 29.

I was so, so wrong.

"You think I look 29?" she asked back incredulously and her tone shrill.

Well, not now, I didn't.

"My favorite book is _1984_!" I blurted out loudly. "What's yo-OU-rs?"

Damn voice crack.

"29? You think I look almost 30!"

I frowned. "Well, I'm almost 30. What's so bad about that?"

She scoffed. "For you, nothing. You're a man. You don't get old, you get _distinguished_. I, on the other hand, get a gray hair and I'm expected to dye it immediately. If I can't fit into my jeans from college, I must have let myself go. If I pass 30 and I'm not married or engaged and working on my first baby, I'm a failure."

"I don't think you're a fa-"

"Maybe I don't _want_ to get married yet. Maybe babies remind me of Stewie from the Family Guy. I'm not ready for a demon baby. I like working. I like running. I like vacations. I don't want to give that up yet. And screw those jeans anyway! They were really from high school, and who the fuck still wants to wear acid-wash anymore?"

I stared openly at her, wondering if I was supposed to respond yet. Either she was premenstrual, or she had some small neuroses of her own. That would be great, actually. Even footing, if you will.

"I'm sorry," she frowned. "I went to my high school reunion last weekend. Stupid ex-cheerleaders with their stupid maternity clothes and stupid diamond rings."

With great strength, I resisted the urge to smile.

She looked at me with wide eyes. "I just ruined the game, didn't I?"

Sensing it was safe to speak now, I shook my head. "No. You sounded like me for a minute, and it actually felt good to hear. I still think you're perfect, though. And I learned way more about you than just your age, which doesn't matter to me anyway. But final guess? 26."

She shook her head, smiling bashfully. "28. You were only off by a year. But it's an important difference."

I laughed, pulling her toward me and wrapping my arms around her as the water sloshed in the tub.

"So are we actually going to stay here for the rest of the day?" I asked quietly.

She chuckled softly, shrugging her shoulders. "Why not? We're already here. It's our first adventure. A staycation. Oh, but you are going to have to feed me at some point. I get crabby when I don't eat. I wonder if all their food here is heart-shaped?"

Smiling, I dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "For now, more questions?"

"Yes, I'll try the swing, no to the pole."

I snorted, tightening my arms around her. "I meant the game?"

"_Great Expectations._"

"Of what?"

She laughed. "My favorite book. Yours is _1984_, and mine is _Great Expectations_. I love the movie, too."

"Well, I know it might not mean much coming from a guy who wears elbow patches on his jackets, but I happen to think acid-wash is hideous."

She sat up and turned around, smiling widely.

"Thank you."

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><p><strong>EN: Alright, so you all know from my last A/N everything that's going on with me, so even if this does turn into a short (read:SHORT) story, updates won't be like they were with TINML or RM. Just sort of when I can. Anyway, two quick things:**

**I'm doing another fundraiser, this time for Texas Wildfire Relief. I live in Texas, and it's actually been really, really bad this year. So if you're interested, I'm contributing a futuretake from TINML to their compilation up for grabs. More info at:**

**http : / texasfires . ysar . info/**

**Just remove the unnecessary spaces.**

**Also, I'm officially signed up for the Twi-fic meetup in June in Vegas! More info at:**

**http : / twificmeetup . blogspot . com/**

**Also on twitter under twificmeetup. Harass aleighy for more details. But you can't have her for your betta. S**he's mine, I found her first.****


	3. Chapter 3 Orientated APOV outtake

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all rights to Twilight.**

**Title: Orientated, Alice POV Outtake from O/S Orientation**

**Rating: M for language**

**Beta: aleighy**

**A/N: I know this isn't really an update, but I wanted to share the oneshot I did for FF4LS a while back. Since it's my birthday today, I thought it would be a nice present to hear what you all think of it. Also, just a huge thank you going out to all the readers that continue to review not only this story, but TINML, RM, and MM. I feel like I have some of the sweetest reviewers in the world. **

**Also, just to add, the TINML outtake I did for Texas Wildfires will post in January as an additional epilogue to the TINML story. It is the story of Annie coming home to the Cullens. **

**Read on to hear Alice's POV from that first day (and why Tanya was glaring at Jasper's door)...**

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><p>Okay. First day of my new job. I will not get nervous, even if this is one of the most prestigious firms in town. Just because my last job was at an asylum that drove me so crazy I almost became a patient does not mean I can't do this. They hired me. They want me. I can do this.<p>

Well, hello Mr. Stud.

"Hello, Ms. Brandon. Welcome to our team here at _Volturi, Volturi, & Volturi_. I'm very glad to have you join us here today, and I'm also thankful you were able to look past the ridiculousness of our firm's name. The brothers all wanted equal billing, never minding the fact that even they don't know who is listed first in the business's name."

Oh. So it's more like Mr. Nerdstud. Alright, I'll bite on the bad joke. Poor guy seems so nervous.

"Who is?"

"Who is what?"

"Who is listed first?"

"That is an excellent question, Ms. Brandon. I'm afraid I can't answer it, but always feel free to voice concerns or questions to your second nearest managerial supervisor. Not too many questions, though. Too many will make your supervisor think you incompetent, and he will then most likely find a reason to let you go. Moving on…"

"Wait, why my _second_ nearest manageri-"

"All in good time, Ms. Brandon. Again, an excellent question. Now follow me, if you please."

Oh, sweet baby Christ, I'm starting to think this guy's not kidding. Mr. Nerdstud has now been officially downgraded to just Mr. Nerd. Or I suppose I could just call him Mr. Cullen. That's too bad. Now don't get me wrong, I know not to let anybody dip their pen into my company ink, but sometimes a good daydream can mean the difference between staying sane or stealing meds off the patients.

And while this guy is really nice and almost _too _professional, he either needs meds, or he's already on some. His muscles don't look tense, but _oh my god_ is he rambling. Wait. Did he just- Sweet baby Christ he did. He just included in his introductions that the hairy CPA looking down his secretary's shirt has a wife _and_ a mistress.

"Probably uses his secretary to keep them straight," I muttered, definitely not meaning for him to hear me.

Oh, but he did. And now he's rambling some more about the turnover rates of skanky, bitchy temps, who apparently I shouldn't even bother to learn their names at the rate they get fired. The latest skanky bitch out to get him glared at me as I walked by with him, so I made a mental note to help the poor guy out if I caught her trying to "attract his attention to her breasts at every conceivable opportunity."At this point I wouldn't be surprised if he was a virgin. Stupid whore has another thing coming if she thinks she can intimidate me. I can take down a two-hundred pound man hanging from the ceiling fan because he thinks he's Tarzan. She'll get more than just coffee on her lap if she's not caref- wait, what?

He did not just tell me that my brand spankin' new bosses like to give the girls around here the spanks. I can take care of myself, but I didn't just leave one job full of roaming hands to move to another one.

"Oh no, no need to worry at all, Ms. Brandon. They like to harass the temps, and quite frankly, the temps like to be harassed. The brothers are also rarely seen outside of their offices, which are located in the basement. They are very strange. As for myself, I would never harass a woman, and neither would any of my fellow colleagues here. Except for James Hunter. And the janitorial staff. And the night guards."

Sweet baby Christ. He's either kidding, I'm on Candid Camera, or I really need to check the level of pepper spray on my keychain. And now he's looking at me like I'm the one that needs help and a quick glance at the ceiling doesn't reveal any cameras.

Pepper spray it is.

"Anyway, you won't need to worry about the janitorial staff or the night guards, unless you stay late in the office. We don't pay overtime, so you shouldn't stay late. Your work day is eight hours, but we only give each person about two hours worth of work to do a day. You should still stretch that work out over eight hours, though. We keep expectations low to avoid laziness, not promote it. If for some reason you are unable to do your two hours' worth of work in the eight hour allotted time period, feel free to file an extension with the Office Manager, Angela Weber. She is quiet as a mouse and a complete pushover. She gives extensions to anyone. Incidentally, she is in love with Ben Cheney, her assistant, but is too shy to let him know. However, he is aware, but equally shy. A most unfortunate impasse. Moving on…"

"Wait!"

Okay.

One: he said that all in one breath.

Two: I will never be bored here with the overabundance of office gossip, and I should look into trying out my legendary matchmaking services on the poor little mouse girl giving puppy-dog eyes to the poor little mouse boy blushing his ears off.

Three: he only covered two out of the three potential victims of my roundhouse kick if they get fresh.

"What about this James Hunter?"

"Ah. I neglected to explain. My apologies, Ms. Brandon. You are a very astute individual. So full of questions, though. Anyway, James Hunter is your first managerial supervisor, hence why I told you to take all questions and concerns to your second managerial supervisor. If you don't look him in the eye, he won't believe he has a 'connection' with you, and will therefore treat you as though you don't exist. That's his office just over there. He is absolutely obsessed with hunting. His office is covered in pictures of his various hunting trophies and decorated with bullets. I have heard that he even has bullets for pens, but I can't really be sure. I don't look him in the eye, either."

Sweet baby Christ, I think that was supposed to make me feel better. And now he's telling me that they "actively encourage" office relationships. At first, I think he can't be serious, but then I realize of course they do, the execs are all pervs. And now we're moving back into over-share territory…

"…For example, our other CPA, Mike Newton, is currently in a relationship with our Human Resources manager, Jessica Stanley. She is cheating on him with Tyler Crowley, our Office Supplies Manager. For more information on these and other relationships, you can sit in the office lounge during your breaks and listen to the temps gossip by the coffee machine. Even at the alarming rate in which they turn over, they always know who is sleeping with whom."

Sweet baby Christ, it's like a public service announcement. Attention all: old Mrs. X down in the cafeteria now has the Clap. Back to your regularly scheduled office fuckery.

"I see."

"Excellent. Incidentally, here we are at your second managerial supervisor's office. Knock, knock, Mr. Whitlock."

"Edward, I've told you, you can call me Jasper," came the reply from inside. I take one quick peek in, and then I'm hiding behind Mr. Cullen's thankfully tall form as fast as a blink.

"Mr. Cullen!" I whisper-hiss at him, before he can introduce me. I need a moment.

I have found the man that will star in my office daydreams. He's sitting at his computer, but he's obviously tall. I love tall. Long, wavy blond hair, but clean-shaven and wearing this season Hugo Boss. And they encourage office relationships here.

I'm in heaven.

But wait. "They" are actually perverted creeps that skulk around a basement between harassments and employ tramps and psychopaths. The closest thing to normal I've met so far is Mr. "Poster Boy for Why Social Skill-learning Should Be Mandatory in Public Schools" Cullen.

I'm in hell.

"Yes?"

_God, just give me this one and I will go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life. Well, once a month. Oh hell, I'll go on Christmas. But seriously, please. Um…amen._

"Please tell me he's not a pervert, or in a relationship and cheating on anybody, or in a relationship at all!" I beg. As an afterthought once I remember that finely-tailored suit, I add, "Or gay!"

His kind smile turns into a stern frown as he starts to go off on an anti-discrimination tirade, totally missing the point. Please. Does he think my hair looks this good because I let a _straight_ man touch it? Men.

"I'm not asking because I have a problem with gay people, Mr. Cullen. I'm asking from a…potential inner-office relationship perspective."

Somehow, amazingly, understanding dawns on him.

"To the best of my knowledge, the answer to all of your questions is no. He and I rescue each other from the temps' advances often, his last _monogamous_ relationship with _Maria_, who incidentally has always been a Maria, ended for reasons I am personally unaware of. But the temp probably would. Could I introduce you now?"

Shock comes from three sides.

One: I still can't figure out how he talks so fast.

Two: he is apparently more aware of the craziness that surrounds him that I gave him credit for.

Three: social skill level not yet discovered, but on paper Jasper Whitlock is a complete and total catch. And if I'm able to determine somehow that he doesn't have a secret stuffed animal collection or is a closet cross-dresser, I'm going to be wanting a more _private_ introduction.

What? It's hard to land a man when your answer for "What do you do?" is "Work at the sanitarium." It's been awhile. So I try to beg off meeting him just yet, thinking Mr. Cullen won't see through my veiled innuendo as we continue on our tour of the office.

Oh, but of course he does.

"Acceptable, Ms. Brandon. I should make you aware of the fact that the copier room and the supply closet do not have a lock, but all offices do. However, the offices are not soundproof, but the stairwells are, from what I've been told. Unfortunately, due to fire code, the doors to the stairwells must remain unlocked at all times. Breaks are thirty minutes in the morning and thirty minutes in the afternoon. One hour for lunch. Moving on…"

If any man besides Mr. Cullen gave me a speech like that, I'd slap him with a harassment lawsuit in one hand and backhand him with my other. But I'm fast learning that with Mr. Cullen? Just get clarification.

"Wait. Did you just basically give me a rundown on how to _get down_ during the work day?"

Lesser men might be fazed by the slightly hysterical tone of my voice. But he isn't. Well, that or he's oblivious. Either way, props for my nerd-guide.

"An interesting way to put it, but all part of the orientation, Ms. Brandon. Normally, I would have allowed you the luxury of reading through the employee's handbook at your own discretion, but given your interest in Mr. Whitlock, I felt it prudent to make mention of such things prior to your plans of _getting acquainted_."

There is a very real chance my head will explode before the end of this orientation.

"Moving o-"

I can't take it anymore.

"Mr. Cullen, can I ask what your position is here?"

And sweet baby Christ, I should have seen it coming. Of course he's IT. It explains so, so much. Everything, really.

Exhibit A: terrible fashion sense. Elbow patches? Really?

Exhibit B: Pale skin and shadows under the eyes. Sure signs of staring at computers screens and squinting at tiny little parts.

Exhibit C: poor guy heard me mumble again (I really need to lose that habit) and now looks heartbroken. I want to put him in my pocket and take him home for some milk, cookies, people skills lessons, and more information on one Jasper Whitlock.

"Have I done a poor job orientating you today, Ms. Brandon?"

Well, if that doesn't make me feel like a terrible human being, nothing can. I try to reassure him, over and over, but his confidence is shot, I can tell.

"This is my office. We have techs working on another level in the building, but I am the first go-to if you're having troubles. And directly across the hall from me is our advertising office. I'll, um…I'll let you introduce yourself to Ms. Swan. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Brandon. Mr. Whitlock will be more than happy to show you to your cubicle once you're ready."

Oh oh oh. My matchmaking senses are tingling at the mention of Ms. Swan. No over-share of personal information? A sideways longing glance toward her office door?

"Wait!" I head him off before he can bolt. "Why won't you introduce me to Ms. Swan? You introduced me to everyone else?"

Except for the psychopath, which I greatly appreciate.

"That is probably not a good idea, Ms. Brandon."

Matchmaking senses are now ringing the alarm.

"And why is that, Mr. Cullen? You've made mention of pretty much everyone's love life in this office except for your own. Is there something going on between you and Ms. Swan?"

His little mumble of, "I wish," doesn't go unheard. Finally, a chance at redemption for making him feel bad earlier.

"So is this like that Ms. Weber and Mr. Cheney are too shy to say anything-thing? An impasse?"

"No, this is like a Ms. Swan doesn't know that Mr. Cullen exists-thing," he says plainly, but I know for a fact he's wrong.

Fashion sense aside, he's a handsome guy that is _directly _across the hall from her office. Judging by the fact he's blushing from just talking about her, he's at the very least a gentleman. These sorts of things don't go unnoticed by we, the fairer and smarter sex.

"Mr. Cull-"

"Oh, for God's sake, call me Edward. If you're going to start digging around in my nonexistent love life, you might as well."

Finally, he drops the formal nonsense. And that was as good as permission to continue if I ever heard it. I smile big at him as I introduce myself to him again.

"And I'm Alice. Now, Edward, this office isn't that big. You're literally right across the hall from her. Don't you see her during breaks? Lunch?"

I need to know timetables, commute routes, allergies; the list is endless. I should have known he won't disappoint. Something triggers him and the floodgates open.

"She comes in half an hour late and leaves half an hour early every day, so she skips her breaks. I don't know why. The temps probably do, but I don't want to listen to them talk about her life. It's not my business. She's perfectly polite to every single person here, even Gianna who used to be a Gene. She tells everyone to call her Bella, except for me, because as previously mentioned, she doesn't know I exist. She's never dated anyone in the office, and they've all tried. Several times. She's probably married. Her husband probably has great social skills. And manageable hair. I hate him. He doesn't deserve her. He probably can't even turn a computer on. He's an imbecile."

How does he do it in only one breath? And he's just getting warmed up.

"I watch her eat lunch every day. She's allergic to peanuts, but loves the smell of peanut butter candles, and I think that that is adorable for reasons even I cannot understand. She calls her mother on Mondays and Thursdays. She calls her father on Tuesdays and Fridays. Wednesdays, she likes to read. She enjoys all the classics, but she hides cheap romance novels inside of them sometimes, usually around the holidays. Her favorite color is blue, and she looks beautiful in every shade of it. And her uncooperative computer is the best-running piece of machinery in this place, because it has only glitched once, and _of course_ I was out of the office that day, because I'm pretty sure God hates me. Every day when I get here before she does, I have to fight the temptation to break into her office and give her computer a virus just so I will have a legitimate reason to speak her name and hear her voice directed toward me. But then I remember that I am a horrible liar and will most likely blurt out that I broke her computer intentionally, at which point she would, _and rightfully so_, become very upset with me. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I would rather die than upset her. Incidentally, at this point I would really appreciate it if you would shut me up so that we might move on. Anytime. Please. Serious-"

Oh. My. God. Ms. Swan, or _Bella_, as Edward calls her, opened the door to her office at the tail end of that tirade. She's now standing right behind him in the doorway, catching my eye over his shoulder and putting a finger to her lips for me to stay quiet.

I like her already. But back to poor Edward.

"Okay, okay!" I laugh, but then sigh. This was going to be so much fun. "Oh, Edward."

He looks a little frightened, whether it's due to the soul-spilling monologue he just performed or of me, I don't know, but I always say "In for a penny, in for a pound." Time to set the trap.

"So I'm assuming you've never tried to talk to her. First step is doing that. Pretend I'm her, and introduce yourself."

He groans loudly and glares at me, before his eyes glaze and he seems to lose himself for a moment. I resist the urge to kick his ankle and settle for a subtle cough. He groans anyway.

"What can I possibly say? 'Hello, my name is Edward Cullen. I watch and think and fantasize about you more than is probably psychologically healthy and am pretty sure I'm in love with you, even though you didn't know I existed until approximately fifteen seconds ago, and yes, I am aware we've never actually spoken. I would greatly appreciate you letting me take you out on a date so you can come home with me and never leave. Please don't be alarmed by the fact I have an entire room in my apartment full of Star Wars collectible action figures. They're for my nephew, mostly. By the way, in case you are wondering, no, I've never had a restraining order against me. I would really not like to start now. Also, in case I wasn't completely clear before, I think you are beautiful and want to have about a million little Bella-babies with you."

Pay dirt. In a thirty-second anxiety-ridden spiel, he's just saved me months of matchmaking time and effort. For a split second I'm disappointed, but then I remember the man down the hall I've yet to introduce myself to, and all thoughts of disappointment flee my mind.

Aw, man. If looks could kill, I'd be deader than a zombie right now. From behind him, Bella _finally_ lets herself be known.

"Well, that's quite a start. I'm not sure about a million though."

Oh, the look on his face. My kingdom for a camera. To capture this shot and embarrass him with it at their wedding would be priceless. I make a mental note to start planning that as soon as possible. He makes a dying-cat sort of sound as reality hits.

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes," I assure him, because there is no escape. I'm in front of him, and she's right behind him.

"How long has she been there?"

I almost point out to him how rude it is to ignore someone, but instead decide the better revenge is the truth.

"Oh, not long. Just since around you said you'd rather die than upset her."

"But in the interest of full-disclosure, I was listening through my office door since around 'she comes in half an hour late…"

She's beyond awesome. Possibly my new hero. And I think she'll be just what he needs to bring him out of his shell, because if she didn't feel the same way for him, she would have been shrieking by now.

Okay. So I've atoned for accidentally being rude to him earlier and hurting his feelings. I've initiated contact between target A and target B. Now it's time to get mine.

"Ms. Swan, I'm Alice Brandon. Mr. Cullen just gave me my orientation. This office may very well be the strangest place I will ever work, and that's saying something. I used to run the books for a mental hospital. Woman to woman, is Jasper Whitlock on the level?"

"On the level and _very_ available. Call me Bella, Ms. Brandon."

I'm going to buy her something very, very pretty soon.

"Only if you call me Alice."

I chance a glance at Edward, and he's as still as a statue, looking like he wishes he were invisible.

"Bella, I think we may have broken the Edward."

No movement, but he did make the dying-cat noise again, so at least he's still breathing. But she charges ahead with balls of steel.

"I'll be fixing that momentarily. If you don't mind, on your way to…_introduce_ yourself to Jasper, will you tell Tanya to cancel my eleven o'clock? And incidentally, have her check Edward's appointments as well. If he has any, tell her to cancel them. Did Edward explain to you the effectiveness of spilling coffee on the temps to make them behave?"

She's a sweetheart. I'm definitely leaving Edward in good hands.

"Oh, yes. Like I said, mental hospital. Trashy temps don't scare me."

"Great. We'll have to get together for a Happy Hour soon, Alice."

I still can't see her, but I can hear the smile in her voice, and maybe just a tiny bit of nervousness.

"Oh, I think we're going to be great friends."

I give Edward one last wink and then hop off to talk to Trampy Tanya. She hears me approach and looks up with a seductive smile until she registers I'm not only female, but the same supposed threatening female encroaching on her territory. I could have some fun here.

Time to confer with my conscience.

The temps are obviously the source of all things gossip at work. Anything I say or do will be all over the office by my first break, so if I antagonize her and insinuate there's anything going on between Edward and me, it could bite me in the ass. But he seems very private, and anything to draw her attention away from the fact that both he and Bella are canceling their appointments for the rest of the day might be the best thing I could do for them.

Eh. She'll probably be gone in a week anyway.

In the sweetest voice I can muster, I lean forward as if to share a juicy secret.

"Hey. It's, um, Tamara, right? Anyway, I need you to do me a solid, woman-to-woman. I'm new here, but Edward gave me _such_ a thorough orientation, if you know what I mean," (already picking up lingo from my new nerd friend) "and we kind of want to continue in a more…private environment. So he asked me to have you cancel any appointments he might have for the rest of the day. Rest of the week, if I have my way."

I wink at her then, struggling to keep from laughing outright at the outraged look on her beet-red face.

"Anyway, while we were…_ahem_…finishing up the details, that woman across from his office, um…Swan, I think? She had something come up and she needs to cancel off the rest of the day, too. I'm just going to hop over and let my second closest managerial supervisor know what's going on before I leave. I feel a cold coming on. Thanks for your help, Tina!"

I run straight for Mr. Whitlock's office, sparing one quick glance toward Bella's, just in time to see the blinds click shut. Hot damn, girl. Make that nerd a man.

I slam the door shut behind me before Tanya can make a single catty remark, mentally patting myself on the back for how well that went. I implied a lot, but never actually said anything specific. So whenever it came time for damage control, it should be easy to set the record straight.

"Can I help you?"

I turn towards the voice, and even though I knew he was in here, I'm still struck by how unbelievably hot he is. Blue eyes. I love blue eyes.

And sweet baby Christ, he's checking me out right back.

"Um…I'm the new hire, Alice Brandon."

"I know," he nodded with a small smile. "I was hoping you'd come in earlier, but you kept me waiting."

He's flirting with me. Ovary one and ovary two are already fighting over which one gets to drop the egg.

I give him a little pout, and his eyes glaze a bit. I want to pounce on him.

"I'm sorry. I was just a bit preoccupied hooking Edward up with Bella."

He snaps out of his trance, sitting up straight in his chair.

"I'm sorry, what? Did you just say Edward and Bella _finally_ hooked up?"

I nod smugly. All before I even had my second cup of coffee.

He jumps up suddenly, running over and scooping me up in his arms, swinging me around with a loud whoop. I yelp in shock, but I'm not stupid. I take the opportunity to wrap my arms around his shoulders. After a moment he sets me down, shaking his head at me in wonder.

"You don't understand. I've been trying to bring Edward out of his shell for years, but it's not easy. He's a really good guy, just a little, ah, nervous? And Bella's been begging me for months for hints, but he's always shut down whenever I bring her up in conversation. I kind of took that to be a bad sign. I'm so glad I was wrong, and in thanks for your amazing achievement, I want to buy you dinner."

"That sounds great."

I'm pretty sure that came out as a sigh. He's smirking at me now.

"Is tonight okay?"

I nod. "What time?"

"Right after work? Five-ish?"

I nod again. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'it's always five o'clock somewhere?'"

The smirk becomes a grin. "I have. I think it's actually five in England right now."

"I'm one-sixteenth English," I reply back automatically.

"Works for me," he mutters, leaning in to kiss me. Behind me, I hear blinds click shut.

Best first day ever.

**Big thanks for all your reviews. Next real chapter of Orientation coming after I survive finals. **


	4. Chapter 4 Interlude

**Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I am not Stephenie Meyer.**

**Beta: Aleighy**

**A/N: I know this is short, but I am working on the next chapter that leads to Edward's Nerdcave, and I wanted to give you this interlude of sorts to give a better insight into the workings of Nerdward's mind. I hope you enjoy it, and if I don't post again before Christmas (though I hope to) Happy Holidays to all my readers out there. **

**P.S. Thank you for all the birthday wishes and sentiments of luck for my finals. I'm officially 4.0!**

**Back to your regularly scheduled reading...**

* * *

><p>About three things I am absolutely certain:<p>

One, after months of reveries and nightly dreams, now that I've actually spoken to her, laughed with her, _touched_ her, I am completely in love with Bella Swan, regardless of the fact I am too afraid to actually tell her.

The second is that there is a part of her, not sure how small, that is just as neurotic as I am. Unassuming hotel stay turned sex-dungeon escapade? No issues. Heart-shaped steak touching her mashed potatoes when we ordered room service? Two and a half minutes of incoherent grumbling and shaking of her head as she meticulously divided her plate "properly."

And third…

The woman is a succubus that is going to drive me into an early grave.

My heart still isn't beating normally. And my poor, poor penis.

_Earlier…_

I woke up with a groan, from a dream of Bella sucking me off to a reality in which Bella was sucking me off in an attempt to waken my penis for the umpteenth time since we'd arrived in the hotel room. Blearily, I glanced at the clock and saw it was past three in the morning, only two hours since our last round. I was prepared to swallow my embarrassment and explain to her that the poor guy just didn't work overtime, when _she _swallowed and my cock hit the back of her throat and valiantly rose to the task.

Either he was making up for lost time, or he just couldn't pass up an opportunity to enter the Promised Land I'd been fantasizing about for the last seven months.

My body exhausted but a certain part of mine very much awake, I lifted her off of me with a pop and hoisted her up to straddle me. She giggled lightly as she sank down, leaning over me and whispering against my lips.

"That tickled."

I smiled back into her mouth as we kissed, marveling at my comfort with her, before she began to rock over me, and I couldn't think of anything anymore. Nothing except the heat of her surrounding me, the softness and slipperiness of her skin, _so much skin_ the sensation was overwhelming.

Her rocking sped as she started making the gasping keen I'd come to learn was her tell of an impending orgasm, and in response I thrust to match her movements, a warmth of pride filling my chest when I heard her moan and felt her clench. I held her close to me as she came, rolling us to our sides and continuing to move inside her, hitching her leg up around my waist. Her eyes widened and her nails dug into my shoulders as the shift drove me deeper inside.

"_Edward_," she whispered, pleading.

My eyes fought to roll into the back of my head as her hips grinded against mine in tandem, my hand wrapping around the back of her neck to bring her face to mine for a savage kiss. My orgasm came with no warning, and my entire body jerked in response. The unintentional extra deep thrust ripped another climax from Bella, my mouth swallowing her shocked cry.

My hands shaking slightly, I reached down and pulled the sheet up, disconnecting us. She curled into my arms and kissed my chest softly.

"Good night…again," she murmured, her lips curling into a smile against my skin.

I chuckled breathlessly, holding her close as she drifted back off to sleep and I did the same.

Or tried to, at least. She'd warned me in her office that she grinded her teeth in her sleep, and it turned out she hadn't been kidding. She really did. Loudly. Thinking into the future, I wondered if perhaps a mouth guard for her or earplugs for me might be in order. Thoughts of a future at all made me grin like an idiot, though. And that wasn't what was keeping me awake anyway. That would be the searing pain in my groin.

She kicks in her sleep, too. This is only slightly helped by the fact she steals the comforter and cocoons herself so completely that the kick is somewhat dampened. But after literally _hours_ of lovemaking, I wouldn't have been surprised if a strong breeze was able to cause me discomfort. I also really needed to urinate. And aside from the pain in my groin, my arm was pinned underneath her cocooned body, and every attempt to move it only caused her to burrow deeper on top of it. If I didn't think I was about to wet myself, I would have thought it was adorable.

Ever so slowly, inch by inch, I twisted and pulled my arm, when suddenly, without warning, she rolled completely away from me, freeing my arm at last. I was mid-pull, however, and the unexpected momentum sent me rolling off the side of the bed to an ungraceful heap on the floor. From above I heard only a light snore. Painfully pulling myself up, I walked gingerly into the bathroom en suite, my completely numb right arm hanging limply at my side.

Staggering over to the commode, I reached down to hold myself so as to piss properly and hissed as my hand grasped very, very raw skin. Looking down, it also appeared slightly red as well. One eye looked back up at me with a sad tear, as if to say, _I love her too, but please…no more! Mercy!_

"You're the one that decided to wake up for the last tumble," I ground out before I could stop myself.

Dear God, I was having an argument with my own penis. And as he finally released a seemingly endless stream, much to the consternation of my throbbing loin muscles, it appeared he was winning.

After I'd finished my ablutions, I started to head back to the bed, but paused. If while climbing back into bed I accidentally woke up Bella and she wanted another go-round…I looked down at the poor guy and his eye was narrowed to a slit, threatening mutiny.

Sitting down on the edge of the tub, I nodded down at him. "No, I know. It's not worth the risk."

Agreeing with my penis was better than arguing against him, right?

Sighing, I rested my head in my hands, noting they were shaking slightly. I felt like I was a bit on sensory overload. Not only had I experienced more physical touch in the last twenty-some odd hours than I had in the last five years, but it hadn't just been _anyone's_ touch. It was Bella's. Bella, my dream girl, who shocked me by even knowing my name, let alone knowing anything about me, or wanting to know more, enough to knock her monitor over just to get my attention…Speaking of which, I would need to replace that come Monday. I wondered idly if she would perhaps be willing to let me build her an entirely new computer. God knows I had enough spare parts laying about my apartment…

Shifting a little, I grimaced as my groin protested the movement. There was a very real chance I'd strained something. I'd used muscles today that I'd forgotten I even had, if I ever even really knew. I couldn't get over the mere fact that I had even kissed her (or rather was technically kissed _by _her, since she made the first move), let alone made love to her. The sheer number of times we'd copulated and the various positions were beyond the realm of my mind's comprehension at the moment. In my wildest fantasies (of which there were several) I'd never imagined Bella to be such a wildcat in bed (or showers…or against wall-length mirrors…or balcony windows…). Unbelievably, I actually began to harden in remembrance, but I squashed that train of thought brutally, giving my overused phallus a short nod of apology for waking him from his slumber. His only response was a small twitch as he went right back to sleep.

Redirecting my thoughts into safer territory, I thought back on the less carnal parts of the day.

_Playing Twenty Questions, that turned into thirty, and then forty…_

_Discussing the merits of pie as we shared a slice, and laughing as she surprise-attacked me with whipped cream, right on the face…_

_Tickling her into submission of the remote, before discovering the only channels available were of the pornographic variety…_

_Wondering what sort of adventurous Gideon might have braved the suite to deliver the Bible in the nightstand…_

I chuckled softly. What a day.

I held a conversation, several conversations, actually, with another person that wasn't a family member, that didn't contain multiple awkward silences or my own stuttering. Or a panic attack. I'd talked and smiled and laughed more today than I probably had in my entire life. And again, not just with any person. _Bella._

The fantastical version mixed with my own slightly obsessive observations of her didn't hold a candle to the real version I'd gotten to know today. Real Bella was quick and witty, funny and mischievous. She was beautiful, inside and out. She was slightly neurotic and self-conscious, both bold and shy. She was a blanket thief. She was affectionate and passionate and, I dared to hope, loving. Most of all, she was just _real_. Really mine.

If I'd _thought_ I loved her before, there was no doubt about my feelings now. I loved her, more deeply than I ever thought myself capable of, and with that thought, I made my way out of the bathroom and joined her in bed with a smile.

Quietly. After I grabbed an extra blanket from the closet.

**Thanks for reading.**


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